Archive for January, 2017

Lotus Love Blog

“47 You have the right to work, but never to the fruit of work. You should never engage in action for the sake of reward, nor should you long for inaction. 48 Perform work in this world, Arjuna, as a man established within himself – without selfish attachments, and alike in success and defeat. For yoga is perfect evenness of mind.”

Excerpt From: Easwaran, Eknath. “The Bhagavad Gita.”

Last year I suffered a career crisis. I hated what I was doing, and I was frustrated by the people with whom I was working. It was so bad that my manager noticed and commented on it. When I realized how evident my unhappiness was, I knew that something had to change. I seriously contemplated whether it was time to change companies or careers even. I eventually came to the conclusion that changing jobs was actually running away from the real problem. The real problem wasn’t the job or other people. The real problem was me.

My yoga students are often surprised when I tell them that my full-time job is writing software. To them, as to many people, yoga lives in a completely separate world from technology. I too am sometimes surprised, but not for the same reasons. When I was in high school I wanted to become an academic. While I was in graduate school, however, I became disillusioned with academia. As a result, I quit school and got a programming job while I figured out what I wanted to do next. Eighteen years later, and I am still coding.

Technology is, as everyone knows, a male-dominated field in which egos abound. Last year during my career crisis, I realized that after almost two decades working in this domain, I had developed quite the ego. To be clear, when I say that I had an overdeveloped ego, I mean to say that my self-worth had become dependent on how my work was regarded. When I was praised, I felt like a rock star. When I was criticized, I felt like a fraud.

When I was trying to figure out what and how to change, I realized that my attitude to my programming was in sharp contrast with my yoga teaching. Since beginning to teach in 2012, I have always regarded my teaching as service (“seva”). The class is never about me. I observe and help my students as best I can. If a class is well received, that’s great. If someone has a critique or a suggestion, that’s great too. I always walk away from the class with a clear heart and head knowing that I did my best. This is in the spirit of karma yoga, the yoga of selfless action. This form of yoga is described in one of the great Hindu texts, The Bhagavad Gita. In it, the god Krishna teaches a reluctant warrior named Arjuna the importance of taking action, but all the while not being vested in the fruits of that action.

As a result, I realized that I needed to carry over this notion of service into my full-time job. Of course putting this into practice didn’t happen overnight, but it helped that I had been doing this in my yoga teaching for a few years. I volunteered to be in meetings more. In those meetings, I listened to my coworkers. I was also willing to toss my own assumptions out the window when they didn’t hold true. And, when things went wrong, I didn’t beat myself up. Instead, I tried to learn what we could do differently in the future and moved on.

When I decided to make these changes, it wasn’t to impress anyone or to get ahead. I simply wanted to end my own suffering. The changes, however, did not go unnoticed. People remarked on them to my manager, who later related them to me. Whenever he brings it up, I simply say, “I try my best.” And then, I silently think, “This is also yoga.”

Jen first discovered yoga in 2001 and has been practicing it ever since. Since completing her 200 hour teacher training with Laughing Lotus four years ago, Jen has been offering classes where students are met where they are. You can follow her on her Facebook page.

The first arrow fired, a shot symbolizing the start of war between good and evil, didn’t hit anyone. It didn’t even hit a warhorse. All it did was sever a rope holding a bell, dropping to the ground with a clang.

It probably was that little bird’s fault.

One of my favorite stories regarding the Bhagavad Gita isn’t even in it. It’s a story I’ve heard that takes place after. Krishna had just finished explaining to Arjuna why he must rouse himself to action and fight. Arjuna took what Krishna had said to heart and was ready to lead his army.

That’s when the little bird flew up. He flew right up to Krishna and Arjuna and perched on their chariot.

‘I can’t let this war happen,’ he said. ‘In the middle of this battlefield are my five babies, just hatched with their mother. If this war starts my family will never survive the trampling of feet’

Mighty warrior Arjuna was kind. He shared with the little bird that, at times, our life circumstances seem overwhelming, impossible even, and that the lot we have been dealt may seem cruel. But these lots, these circumstances, are temporary. And once they are over, we return back into the unified whole.

The bird looked down. Sad as he was he saw the truth and beauty within. He made ready to fly away and spend the few remaining moments with those he loved.

But right before he flew off he paused, then cried out: ‘Krishna, if this is truly the case—if this is my fate to have, then let me send out my own little battle cry. Be victorious and mighty in this battle that awaits!’

And he flew away.

It can be difficult to accept the hands we are dealt. We can easily feel powerless in the face of mightier forces, helpless to lessen the suffering of others, whether that be a flock far off, or the one in our nest right now.

What we can do is face our circumstances with equanimity and perseverance. To work towards good regardless of scope of impact. Who knows what our future may bring, regardless of today’s predictions?

Upon Krishna’s fired arrow, the battle raged on. It was a terribly bloody battle, many deaths on both sides. Eventually Arjuna led the righteous to victory.

As he walked amongst the former battle field, he came upon the bell that Krishna had shot. He remembered, with slight embarrassment, how Krishna had missed the first shot of war, and kicked the bell over.

How could he have missed? Arjuna thought.

And suddenly, a little bird, the same little bird from before, and his five fledglings and their mother flew up. Protected underneath the heavy bell, they had avoided the ravages of battle and lived to sing of Arjuna’s victory.

Josh is a teacher at Laughing Lotus whose classes emphasize a mindful approach and steadiness of breath. Beyond yoga he is a project manager, hip-hop enthusiast, and coffee connoisseur.

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